Raging Shitstorms (or, Tony's Loud Thoughts)
by ro-lal
Summary: The Avengers face off against another stupid super villain and kick his ass, as per usual, only to find out that they didn't all get away scot-free.
1. Chapter 1

"Jesus, this is boring."

"Thanks for the opinion, Stark," Clint huffed, idly tracing dicks on the table with a finger while his other hand held his head off the metal surface. Tony looked over at him, a strange look on his face.

"Oookay, Birdbrain," he shrugged, returning his attention to his phone. Everyone's attention gradually returned to Fury, who sat at the end of the table with a similar file to the ones sitting in front of everyone else. Only his and Steve's were open.

"As I was saying, you all need to drop in with medical after this to make sure there's nothing you haven't noticed," Fury said. "I don't want you idiots dropping from something you didn't want to tell us about right when we need you. Without Thor around, you all need to be at your best at all times, do you hear me?"

There was an audible snort from Tony's direction. "Yeah. When you need us. Of course you're only worried for our well-being when you have to deal with the fallout."

"Is there something you're trying to say, Stark?" Fury demanded. Natasha raised an eyebrow as Tony looked up.

"Huh?" he asked absently.

"Tread carefully, Stark," Fury warned. "There's only so much of your shit I can put up with."

Clint sniggered.

**8**

"As I understand it, Director Fury only wants us to give you a quick once over and then you can go home." The nurse closed the file Steve had handed to her and returned it to him, smiling. "Does anyone have any present aches or pains we need to know about?"

Natasha and Bruce answered in the negative, and while Steve looked worse for wear he also said no. Clint, more than slightly bruised up after his fall from a balcony, was about to speak up when Tony answered.

"Nothing you need to worry about," he said easily, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a dramatic eyeroll in motion. "I have a killer headache on its way into migraine levels of un-fun from, what, probably lack of sleep, and it hurts like hell to hold this position because my back is on fucking fire , but I'm not about to tell you that, it's a weakness. When I get back to the garage I'll lock you all out and grab an icepack, as usual - WHOA, Tasha's in my face, what is she doing here."

It was true.

"Tony," Bruce said, sounding concerned. Stark's attention flitted to him.

"Oh, Bruce, oh god no, he'll want me on lockdown or something, jesus - " He smiled broadly. "What's up, Brucie?"

"Your mouth wasn't moving just now," Natasha spoke up, staring intently at Stark's face. He shifted a little, away from her. At this point the whole room was watching, and everyone noticed the small wince.

"Excellent observation, no it wasn't," he said. "Okay, this is terrifying. Fucking assassins and their ninja bullshit and wow, she's getting closer, I don't need that, okay, focus on something other than her boobs, but don't look her in the eyes, you'll be turned to stone. C'mon, Stark, say something before you get too distracted - "

"You're doing it again," she interrupted as Clint choked off a laugh and Steve turned an interesting shade of red. "Your mouth isn't moving but you're talking."

"No, actually, I'm not talking, except to say that no I wasn't talking just now." He raised his eyebrows and moved away from the wall to inch away from her. "Ow, oh god that does not feel good, fuck, what the hell did I do to myself, I guess today was a bad time to test the new alloy - " Tony said all this, but his mouth didn't move and he had a perfectly straight face.

"We're hearing your thoughts," Bruce said faintly. "Tony, what are you thinking right now?"

"I'm thinking about how you're all crazy," Tony responded. But apparently, they could all hear otherwise.

"No, you're not," Steve accused, stepping forward with the file still in his hands, "you're thinking about how you hurt your back and don't want to tell us, and that you feel cornered." He paused. "Now you're wondering how I know, and I really wish you wouldn't panic."

Tony opened his mouth, and finding nothing to say, closed it again. His eyes were wide.

"Jesus fuck."

"You just said, 'jesus fuck'," Clint informed him. His eyes, somehow, got wider.


	2. Chapter 2

The nurse cleared her throat. "If you have a headache approaching that level of severity, then you're likely dehydrated on top of," she frowned in distaste, "your apparent lack of sleep. I'll need you to drink two full glasses of water while you're here getting your back checked out by Doctor Sanders." Calm and professional as all members of SHIELD medical were, she nodded at them all before opening the door to the small exam room and disappearing.

_Unflappable as always, _were Tony's moody thoughts. Out loud he said, "I don't have to deal with this."

"We'll have to go back to Fury after," Steve commented. "He needs to know about this."

"No he doesn't," Tony said immediately, recrossing his arms.

"Yes, Tony," Bruce sighed, "he does."

_Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo... jesus what'll he do if he finds out ugh, fucking. Magic. I can't - _Tony's mind helpfully labeled the emotion they couldn't see on his face (uncertainty). _What if he benches me or some shit dammit no I (panic) jesus can't deal with that._

"Nobody's going to bench you, Tony," Steve said instantly, looking pained. Tony whipped around to glare at him, tight-lipped even while his thoughts were screaming at him to stop moving so damn much.

"I never said that," he said stiffly.

"No," Bruce said quietly, "but you were thinking it."

A very final silence followed that statement. Tony glared at them all, thoughts racing so fast Clint could barely hear them. The flashes of feeling, though, were very vivid. Tony's mind named them all as they shifted into each other. Clint recognized the need to change the subject before the tension got to be too much.

"So," he said brightly, "magic, huh? At least Steve's not a girl this time."

Stark's dark thoughts grinded to a halt as he sputtered out a startled laugh. "I dunno, he had some impressive boobage going on. What a figure, I mean damn."

"It wasn't that serious," Steve muttered, earning a smirk from Tasha next to him.

"Magic," she said, "is a lot of things, Steve. Necessary or serious generally isn't one of them."


	3. Chapter 3

"Let me get this straight. Stark didn't think it was necessary to inform anyone that he met the - the-" Fury jerked open the file, sending papers flying and pinned one with his glare "-magician without the suit and was attacked and didn't think to tell anyone ?"

"Yep," Tony affirmed.

"And now we can hear his thoughts."

"That's correct," said Bruce.

"And there's no telling if or when it'll wear off."

"No sir," Steve sighed.

"Stark!" Fury fixed his one-eyed glare on the man. "You FUCKING idiot."

"I'll say," Clint muttered.

"I love you too, honeybun." Tony fluttered his eyelashes dramatically. The whole room could hear the sound of Fury's teeth grinding hard enough to give them all sympathetic jaw aches.

"Hold still, please, Mr Stark," the doctor said a little desperately, pressing her hand on his shoulder blades in an attempt to get him to stay lying facedown on the table even as he rose to his elbows.

"You can stab me while I'm sitting up, can't you?" he demands, not waiting for an answer before hauling himself up and sitting crosslegged. Doctor Sanders sighed.

"I'm not stabbing you, Mr Stark, I'm checking to see if this bruising goes past the skin," she explained.

"Tony," he said absently. "Whatever."

_Why don't you have a chunk of metal in your chest and try to lie down on it without squishing your lungs. It hurts, you idiot._

"You should have said something sooner, Tony," Bruce said immediately. Tony rolled his eyes.

"I am so sick of this already."

"You are?" Clint grumbled without heat. After hearing Tony's thoughts and his spoken words together he'd come to recognize the difference: there was a small ring of - of honesty, sincerity in the man's thoughts that never carried over to his actual speech. Clint really didn't feel like analyzing that.

"We need Thor," Steve suggested. "He could maybe tell what we're dealing with here."

"Why not go back to the guy who did it?" Tony asked. "Brucie could strong arm him into submission - "

"No, Tony," Bruce said wearily. Tony grinned.

"Aw, you're no fun."

"Stark, you're to stay in your damn tower until we get Thor over here and figure this out," Fury commanded.

Tony bristled. "You can't tell me what to do."

"I can and I will and also, I just did." Fury turned around, leather coat flaring dramatically (Clint snickered) and continued, "You'll do it or you'll be putting SHIELD at risk. We can't force you to not think about all the high security level information you've got in your head, so you've got to stay away from people who don't need it. End of discussion."

Tony gaped at Fury's back as the director left the room.

_Shit. Shit and fuck._


	4. Chapter 4

It took a considerable amount of fussing and prodding, but eventually both Tony and Clint (who finally fessed up about the balcony after Fury left) were released from SHIELD medical with orders to rest. Tony, whose back was only bruised, was told to move around every couple hours so that, when his bruising healed, he wouldn't be too stiff. He also was instructed to drink a lot of water (NO ALCOHOL, MR STARK) and get some sleep, while his thoughts about that betrayed his intent to disobey.

Clint got stitches. Enough said.

Somehow Happy Hogan was familiar enough with SHIELD that he knew where to wait with the car outside the nondescript medical building, which by all rights nobody should really know is a place belonging to SHIELD, much less where the Avengers were. But this was Tony, and his brain informed them that he was only slightly smug about it. They all managed to fit in the backseat of the small limo, albeit a bit squished together. Clint was sandwiched between Tony and Bruce, both of which were pressed up against the interior. Stark expressed enough nonverbal complaint for everyone about the lack of extra breathing room.

Actually, his thought pattern was a mess of internal complaint - _ew, medicine _- and fading horror - _all the things in my head I can't think about because I can't share with anyone, oh god no stop thinking about armor specs _. Clint was beginning to learn how to tune out his incessant brain mutters as well as the occasional loud _OH BUT THEN THAT MEANS _. It was tough, but he was managing. Glances at the others told him how they were faring: Steve looked lost and somewhat pained, as though the incessant babble was hurting him. Bruce looked mildly fascinated. Natasha, at first glance, looked impassive as always, but her finger twitches betrayed her own thoughts of strangling Stark into silence. Clint smirked.

Happy, Tony's driver, was clearly well used to the shit his boss made him put up with and only raised his eyebrows once at a stray thought of _and the caves, oh hell not going down that road, let's reconsider the practical application of standard thermonuclear physics to a space ship _.

Then the car stopped in front of Stark Tower and all his brain power focused one a single person.

_Oh look, it's Pepper, _Tony mentally cheered as he hopped out of the car, _oh god it's the maroon suit. Pep only wears the maroon suit when she's got the red lingerie on underneath, oh damn, I am going to get fucked tonight, it must be my birthday - _

"_Tony_." Pepper's face was flushed almost as dark as her suit, expression filled with shock and mild horror. "You can't just think those things when people can hear them -"

_- mmmm, it's the sexy domme face, and that image is going straight to my dick, yes - _

"Tony Stark!" she said shrilly, smacking him with her thick stack of paper (_ oh fuck paper, why is she using paper that's terrible, it's a travesty, it must be stopped _). "Stop that this instant!"

"Sorry," Tony said with an appropriately guilty expression fixed upon his face, but _worth it, so fucking worth it for that mental image. _His guilty look deepened with her blush. _Betrayed by my goddamn brain again. Fucking. MAGIC. _

"Oh god," Clint wailed from inside the car, "I need brain bleeeeaaachhhhhhhhh."

"Please stop," Steve requested in a neutral voice, but he was wincing. "This is way too personal, I don't think I can handle it."

"So she controls you inside and outside the bedroom?" Natasha quirked a brow. "Kinky."

Clint groaned. "Tasha, no."


	5. Chapter 5

Tony did not, in fact, get fucked that night. Rather, he was mothered relentlessly and sent to bed at an apparently painful ten at night. However, Clint didn't find this out by Tony's bitching, verbal or otherwise. On the contrary, as he stepped out of the elevator onto the penthouse floor of Stark Tower at eight in the morning, he was caught off guard by the radio silence.

He found it eerie, to say the least, and briefly wondered if Stark was out already. The computer voice thing (JARWIN? JENSON? He couldn't remember) wasn't making any announcements about anyone's presence. None that he could hear, anyways. Weren't butlers supposed to greet guests or whatever?

Well, if JACKSON wasn't going to show him around, he'd investigate on his own.

Okay, this place had too much shit going on for two people. Seriously.

Eventually a quiet noise caught Clint's attention and he whipped around to find the source. As far as he could tell, he was alone.

_mumble_

This odd little tidbit of thought was accompanied by a soft groaning sound, like someone was in pain. Clint froze, listening harder.

_fee..._

He started tracking the sound, straining his ears.

_Pep, no..._

His footsteps made no sound on the wood flooring, even with his standard issue army boots. Tasha had been a good example in stealth missions. He began to fear something was wrong. Now that he really thought about it, the fact that JAMES hadn't greeted him was rather odd, and the quiet in the penthouse was unnerving. Tony was supposed to be here, but it was obvious by the disturbing lack of sound that if he was, something was wrong.

The small pained noises didn't help. At all.

Clint's unease was rising as he inched through the top floor of Stark Tower. Had someone taken Stark? Hurt him? Considering the phenomenal levels of security it shouldn't have been possible, but since his thoughts were up for grabs by anyone close enough to hear...

_can't, stop..._

The weakness in the tone didn't sound at all like Tony, but it was unmistakably his voice. It had the telltale ring of thought, barely noticeable but still there. So he was in the building, but clearly incapacitated somehow. Today's sluggish fragments were worrying when compared to the constant brilliance from the day before. Clint fingered the knife in his pocket and desperately wished he'd brought his bow.

He stepped into the kitchen and froze.

Now that he thought about it, Clint wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. Tony, bound and drugged? Beaten bloody? On the floor with a head injury?

Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't what he found.

Tony was slumped over the kitchen counter, head pillowed on his arms. He wore a faded and stained black tanktop with ratty grey sweatpants and no shoes. Clint couldn't see his face, but where the top had ridden up was a brilliant expanse of purple bruising. He winced on the other man's behalf.

Pepper was behind the counter in a pajama top and plaid bottoms. The strange machine she fiddled with spat out coffee into a red mug while she sipped out of a green one. On the stove was a pan with four eggs.

Clint let out a quietly strangled sound.

"Your breakfast is almost ready," Pepper announced, setting the red mug on the counter. Tony latched onto it like it was a lifeline, his brain still a muddled mess even as he sniffed, "Ew, Pep, solid food? In the morning? You heathen."

Pepper rolled her eyes at Clint as though he'd been there the whole time instead of awkwardly slouching in the doorway. "Good morning, Mr Barton. You're just in time for Tony's teenage drama."

Clint snorted despite himself and opened his mouth to reply in snarky kind; he was interrupted by a sudden rush of thought and labeled feeling that literally rocked him back on his heels with the intensity of it. Dozens of mathematical equations flooded his mind's ears, his vision scrolling through thousands of lines of 1s and 0s. Various reports and observations and measures of temperature, weight, mass - It was like flicking on the news channel, only for seven others to overlap at once and you were left with the useless remote and overstuffed ears, the various reporters incoherent in their attempts to speak over the others. The sheer weight of the barrage of thought left Clint speechless, and by the look on Pepper's face, she felt it too.

Tony suddenly sat up and held the now empty cup of coffee (when did he drink it?) out for her to take. "'m awake," he said brightly, sounding significantly less like a zombie.

"JESUS, Stark," Clint said loudly. "You're fucking ridiculous. Was that you waking up?"

Tony's thoughts faded to a dull roar as, apparently, he got them under control. He blinked, dropping his hand as Pepper finally reached out and snagged the mug for a refill. "Uh, yeah. Can't function without coffee." _God knows I've said it enough._

"Literally, though?" Clint said plaintively. "Is that really necessary?"

Tony is visibly _surprised_. "Are you telling me you can think without caffeine?"

_literally cannot imagine life without the extra push, how does he do it?_

"Yes?" His statement turned into a question without his permission as he processed this: one way to keep Tony quiet was to make sure he didn't get his coffee.


	6. Chapter 6

By some unspoken command, all the other Avengers ended up in the penthouse kitchen within thirty minutes after Clint's initial entry. Pepper was perfectly happy to allow Bruce to help her cook a much larger meal than she'd originally intended, while Tony glowered at the counter over his fourth cup of coffee of the morning. Everyone else seated themselves around the dark hardwood table (clearly unused, by the way Tony's thoughts were running) as Clint helped serve heaping plates of eggs, toast, and fruit._Why do we even have that? _

"Fruit has to make it into your body somehow," Pepper said calmly, apparently already used to answering Stark's thoughts out loud, "and Dummy makes sure you get at least a kiwi or two into your stupid morning smoothies."

The man only grumbled and continued slurping his coffee in an undoubtedly childish attempt at annoying everyone. _I knew there was something odd about those smoothies... Dummy is a dangerous, dangerous little monster. I knew he was trying to poison me. If it's not motor oil or chlorophyll it's, fucking, KIWIS. Oh god. I'm practically allergic to them, and the little bastard knows it. PEPPER knows it. Why does she do that?! Abuse from all sides, I swear to god. I get no healthy relationships in life, not even with my own creations. _

Natasha casually tossed a butter knife in Tony's direction, and he jumped as it landed handle-up in the toast he'd just picked up. "Shut up," she said amiably. Tony glared over his shoulder.

_Not even going there with HER, jesus fucking christ. _

"Be nice, Tony," Bruce admonished, spooning a few grapes and strawberries onto Stark's plate - _no kiwis, my hero_ - with one hand and flipping pancakes with another - _HOW_.

"Yeah, Stark," Clint said brightly, dropping onto the stool next to Tony's with a plate piled high with all sorts of breakfast meat and _chicken, where the hell did he get chicken, I want some_. He parried Tony's fork attack with his own easily. "Nope, my food. Not my fault you're 'against solids' in the morning. Idiot."

"Shut up." Tony did not pout. _Nope, no pouting here, just manly glowering._

Steve snorted into his cup of OJ. _Shoosh, Capsicle, nobody asked you._

"What're you all doing here, anyways?" Tony complained. "Last I checked, nobody invited you. Pepper, did you invite them? Nope, didn't think so. Did I invite you? Definitely not. Ridiculous levels of security breach in my tower, I do not want you here. Get. Go on, shoo."

"Sure, Stark," Clint said easily. "I'll just take this chicken with me, too, shall I?"

_DON'T YOU DARE -_ "Nope, you get to stay."

"Call from Director Fury, sir," JESPER announced, startling Steve. Natasha leaned over to explain while the AI continued. "Shall I allow it to go through?"

"What? No, J, hang up," Tony whined. Pepper overrode him, "Yes, please, JARVIS, thank you."

Oh. JARVIS. Clint would've gotten it eventually. (No, he wouldn't.)


End file.
